33 comments:

That is a comforting picture. I am worried every fall about where the birds will spend the winter, or even get out of the rain. That is for little birds. The big turkeys are just done for, like the large fish caught by Sarah Palin.

Annals of Dowdiness: In a terrific piece of investigative reporting, Maureen Dowd reports that John Boehner skipped the pat and search line at the airport. My God, is it possible that AQ is recruiting congressional representatives to further their nasty designs. Did the other passengers know the risks they were facing travelling with an unpatted House Speaker?

1jpb...Sarah holds the still beating heart of a fresh caught and gutted big fish in her hand and shows it to her daughter Willow who tells Mom that it is creepy. I can't wait to see what the Stop Palin Conspiracy makes of that by tomorrow.

I have a secret to tellFrom my electrical wellIt's a simple message and I'm leaving out the whistles and bellsSo the room must listen to meFilibuster vigilantlyMy name is blue canary one word spelled l-i-t-eMy story's infiniteLike the Longines Symphonette it doesn't rest

Blue canary in the outlet by the light switchWho watches over youMake a little birdhouse in your soulNot to put too fine a point on itSay I'm the only bee in your bonnetMake a little birdhouse in your soul

On his way home, Mr. Irene went through the body scanner at Reagan National.

Mr. Irene reports that he felt as though he were in a Star Trek "Beam Me Up" transporter. He did not find the experience intrusive because he did not see the scanned image of his physique. Separation equals no anxiety.

The person in front of Mr. Irene refused the scan. Mr. Irene heard the refuser protest about the amount of radiation to which he would be exposed.

One TSA officer said, "What's with him?"

The other TSA officer replied, "He's opting out."

Both then called for "male assist." Hustle bustle.

The TSA also confiscated a snow globe of the U.S. Capitol that Mr. Irene had bought for me. Contraband.

The TSA did not confiscate the How's That Hopey-Changie Thing Working Out For You? T-Shirt that Mr. Irene purchased for me at Union Station.

Mr. Irene summed up the airport experience: "It's the snow globe that did me in."

One of the most fascinating TV viewing experiences these days is a post game press conference with Brad Childress. Describing his team's performance to reporters is more of a grisly eyewitness account of a train wreck that maybe he seen on his way to the store. Detached and devoid of any responsibility whatsoever. Just rubble and strewn cars everywhere.

Garage...As you noticed, Childress is the epitome of bad leadership. I blame an owner who wants an inept employee that he thinks he can control rather than hiring and trusting a coach with leadership skills. Followers need leaders that fit their perception of a good leader. Childress is similar to Coughlan of the Giants in his blaming inept and bad players for being such losers. That is not the message that a good leader sends out.

Mrs. Althouse, I don't know exactly what to call the reminiscence that this image is conjuring. But here goes: Hyper-real-Hyper-Abstract "Cristina's World".

(See: the matted grass with the figure only implied, the house floating above the hill with all the inference that entails...Art shapes the world that shapes the art that shapes the world...ad infinitum)

But the goldfinches are still here. They are draped in their drab winter garb and appear ready for the cold. How on earth do they keep their thin stick legs from snapping when the temperature dives to unbearable lows?